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now … I wonder if I should.”
    “What?” Isabel hastened to Minnie and grasped her work-wrinkled hands, hands that had once been soft and white. “Do you know who he is? Do you know who did this to Mama?”
    “The night before Aurora took ill, I saw a gentleman go into her bedroom. ’Twas too dark to see his face, and I thought little of it at the time, for she liked her privacy…” As if emerging from a trance, Minnie gave a sharp shake of her mobcapped head. “Nay, you must be mistaken. Your mama died of the ague, that’s all.”
    “I’m not mistaken, and what you saw proves it,” Isabel said fervently. “That man must have administered the poison. And I’m going to find him.”
    Dismay widened Minnie’s eyes. Her hands squeezed Isabel’s. “Don’t do anything rash, child. You can’t fight such powerful men. Leave it be.”
    “I cannot. Somehow, I’ll track him down. I’ll make him pay for his crime.”
    From that emotion-charged moment, Isabel had refused to listen to any further remonstrations from her aunt. Nothing could stop her from seeking justice. Not the daunting task of infiltrating the ton. Not the prospect of posing as a lady. Not even the threat of facing arrogant aristocrats like Lord Kern.
    “Dear cousin, you look lost in thought,” Lady Helen said on a merry laugh. “Do stop woolgathering and tell me, what do you think of these?”
    Isabel blinked at the girl who stood before her. Helen held her arms outstretched to display a pair of gowns, one of dotted white net over a pale green underskirt, the other of ivory silk with azure ribbons threading the short, puffed sleeves. Both gowns were demurely fashionable. Both were perfectly suited to a debutante of Helen’s fair coloring and slender form. By her bright eyes, she seemed to expect a comment, so Isabel said, “They’re quite pretty.”
    “They just arrived this morning from the dressmaker. So which one?”
    “Which one what?”
    Helen giggled. “Which one would you like to wear to dinner, of course?”
    “Oh.” Isabel’s throat tightened. She reached out to caress the cool softness of the ivory silk. How generous of Helen to share her wardrobe. Isabel had prepared herself for opposition, for pacifying a spoiled, snobbish lady. But Helen had welcomed her with open arms. Somehow, that made the deception all the harder. “Can’t I just wear what I have on?”
    “Heavens, no. Papa is most insistent on formal attire at dinner.” Helen turned to rummage through the huge armoire, where a variety of frocks hung from hooks. “So is Justin. We daren’t displease them.”
    Isabel bristled. “Lord Kern cannot dictate how you dress. He isn’t your husband yet.”
    “But he will be soon.” Helen whirled around, clutching a pale-blue gown to her bosom. “Oh, doesn’t he stir the most glorious awe in you? He is so handsome, so clever, so perfect, I never quite know what to say to him.”
    I can think of a few choice phrases. “Speak your mind, that’s all. Make him heed your opinions.”
    “You make it sound so easy. But I confess to fearing I’ll bore him with chatter about parties and gossip and matters of no consequence. He spends many of his days at Parliament, you know.”
    “He can’t be a member,” Isabel blurted in surprise. “His father is still alive.”
    “Justin says he’s educating himself for the time when he will join the House of Lords. And I am a paper-skulled ninny when it comes to politics.” Helen sighed, as if her high spirits had plummeted. “How did you manage to speak to him so readily?”
    Helen seemed genuinely worried, and Isabel bit her tongue to keep from denouncing Lord Kern as a priggish bore. “ I am not betrothed to him,” she said. “Perhaps that’s why I’m not overwhelmed by his almighty greatness.”
    “You must be a few years older than me, too,” Helen said, before hastily adding, “Oh piffle, I don’t mean to say you’re on the shelf, only that you’ve likely had